


Of Sons & Liberties

by quills_at_dawn



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassin's Creed III, Assassin's Creed: Rogue, Father/Son Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quills_at_dawn/pseuds/quills_at_dawn
Summary: Haytham and Connor are forming a tentative cooperation, but what will happen when Assassin-turned-Templar Shay returns from a sea voyage?(Seriously, it's nothing you wouldn't guess from reading the tags)Now also inChinesethanks to the lovelyfluorine!NOT ABANDONED! Will get back to it when I take a break from the other fic I'm working on.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> An old fic I've had lying around for ages (literal years) - finally decided to dust it off and post it because someone (you know who you are!) asked for Haytham/Connor. <3  
> Looks like it will be something like 5-7 chapters (porn with plot - well, some plot). 
> 
> Haytham's POV (I can't stay away from it...)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay is due back to the manor at any moment and Haytham awaits his return with some trepidation, wondering how Shay and Connor will react to each other.

 

**FIRST IMPRESSIONS**

 

Sitting at my desk, I put all my concentration into pretending to attend to my work while Connor sits in a corner just opposite, reading a book. Or pretending to.

Though I often ridicule his beliefs and methods, I have a healthy respect for Connor’s instincts - he is, after all, my and Ziio’s son - and I don’t want him to know I’m anything less than perfectly at ease.

In the last few days, Connor and I have thankfully come to a kind of truce and are no longer at each other’s throats. I’m not sure how long it will last, beneath the surface we’re still sworn enemies.

Word came yesterday that Shay Cormac is expected back any moment after almost two months at sea exploring the furthest northern reaches with James Cook. Shay had already left when I first met Connor and so he knows nothing of my son's existence, and Connor knows almost nothing about Shay.

All Connor _does_ know about Shay is that he’s one of the Rite’s most able agents and that he’s particularly important to me - my favourite, as Charles Lee spitefully put it.

Charles is my righthand man but I suppose he’s not wholly wrong in saying that Shay is my favourite. My relationship with Shay deepened after out encounter with Achilles until he became… yes, almost like a son to me, then something more.

Now I have a real son on my hands and I have no idea how he and my adopted one will react to each other when they meet.

Shay will be surprised, no doubt - his bright, dark eyes will widen innocently before he remembers to control himself - whereas Connor is likely to remain completely expressionless, his default face when he isn’t angry. That said, if anyone can tame Connor then Shay can, he's always had a way with wild animals.

No, I’m more worried about Connor. My son has a strange character, I’m not sure I’ve entirely made it out yet. He’s idealistic, headstrong, single-minded. He’s even more averse to physical contact than I am whereas Shay uses it as a sign of friendship, a form of bonding, and has gotten his handshake down to an art. Connor will hold being a Templar against Shay just as he does against me but that will be nothing compared to what he’ll do to him if he learns Shay was once an Assassin, that he betrayed his Brothers, and that he is, as much as I am, the reason Achilles holed himself up in his homestead and gave up the Assassins’ cause.

Shay would never hurt any son of mine but I’m apprehensive about what Connor might take it into his head to do to Shay. And aside from doing what I can to make sure Connor never hears of Shay’s history - I’ll have Gist gagged if I have to - I’m at a loss about what I can do to to ensure the introduction goes smoothly.

There’s a knock at the door and I notice Connor doesn't react at all. No doubt he’s as able to recognise Charles’ footfalls as I am.

“Yes?”

“Master Kenway, the _Morrigan_ has just docked and Master Cormac sent word he’ll be here as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

So, the dining room will be the battleground. I hope Shay’s not bringing James Cook with him. The man is too intelligent for his own good and the last thing I need tonight is his observant gaze picking up any reaction Shay and Connor might let slip.

When we’re alone again, Connor raises his gaze to me, looking at me with that hard, searching gaze of his. I can feel it on me but I ignore it and instead continue to write out my letter. A draft - my mind has been elsewhere.

“Do you like working with him better than with me?”

_Oh, this is rich._

Two days ago he still wanted to kill me but now he’s jealous? And to think I’d hoped to save this sort of conversation ’til after they’d at least met.

“I’m afraid I missed your efforts at making your company agreeable, Connor.”

“Is he better than me?”

_Why does he always have to be like this?_

“He’s better at following orders, if that’s what you mean.”

“At doing what we do.”

He says this a little forcefully, emphatically ignoring my answer.

“Shay is very good at what he does,” I answer, setting aside the draft and picking up a letter from the tray, “He’s certainly easier to work with. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t need to be told what to do.”

That should shut him up for five minutes - almost long enough for me to muddle through this memorandum from Pitcairn.

I still feel his heavy, insistent gaze on me. What I really want to do is kick him out of my office but I know we’re all better off if he stays where I can see him. Connor’s feelings for me are nothing compared to the sheer loathing he has for Charles and Charles stupidly cannot resist goading him - the reincarnated form of his jealousy of Ziio.

Though his arrival will complicate things, I can hardly wait for Shay to return to me. He’s been the one thing in my life that has never given me trouble.

“He obeys you blindly?”

Three minutes. I’m slipping.

“The way you obey Achilles?”

“Achilles is like a father to me.”

Ah, finally a little emotion. That was intended to hurt me but I have no pretensions at having ever been a father figure to Connor. I pull out a fresh sheet to pen an answer for Pitcairn.

“I suppose you think that absolves you.”

“Doesn’t Shay obey you like a father?”

No, Shay obeys me like a god but saying so is not the right move here.

Connor is glowering at me though in truth I’m not sure what he holds against me. It’s hardly my fault Ziio ran off without telling me she was pregnant then hid our son’s existence from me ’til her death, just as it was through no doing of mine that Shay instantly accepted me as his master the way Connor accepted Achilles as his.

Logical thinking is a challenge for Connor but I’m always surprised by how often and how quickly that unerring instinct of his substitutes for it.

“Shay is a Templar obeying his Grand Master. All the same, I don’t think I’ve ever asked him to act against his conscience.”

“Neither has Achilles!”

“That’s a charming thing to say to a man you’ve spent almost six weeks trying to kill.”

For two minutes the only sound in the room is the scratching of nib on paper.

“What you want to do is wrong.”

I sigh, pausing in my writing a moment to dip my quill in the inkwell.

“Yes, we established that to be Achilles’ opinion long before you were even conceived, Connor.”

“It is _my_ opinion!”

“Do we really have to do this now?”

Or, more properly, do we have to do this _again_? I haven’t given up on trying to persuade Connor of his error and to join us instead - after all, Shay did just that and without any help from me. And aside from the fact that he’s my son and that I do feel some bond with him, he would be, like Shay, a valuable addition. But he cannot be reasoned with, there is still something that prevents him from seeing things as they are, something that clouds his judgment, and until I can discover what, these discussions are destined to be barren.

Another knock.

“Yes?”

“Masters Gist and Cormac have arrived.”

As Charles looks in, he and Connor exchange glances and I have a moment’s relief from the heat of Connor’s hate. I pen out a quick note to Gist, promising him a slow death at the hands of the Abenaki if he makes the smallest indiscretion, and motion Charles to come and pick it up.

“For Master Gist. And send Master Cormac in at his earliest convenience.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the door closes I meet Connor’s death stare.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in my asking you to behave yourself.”

“I can behave!”

Thankfully, he still falls for these obvious traps.

The door opens and Shay steps in, looking wary. I’m reminded that Shay hears warning whispers whenever there’s a hidden enemy nearby and if Connor’s expression is anything to go by he is that and more.

Shay’s gaze immediately goes to Connor who is still sitting, in the corner behind the door.

“I’m sorry, Charles didn’t mention you had a guest.”

To his credit, he sounds perfectly friendly and he’s made no move to touch his pistols or sword though he must have immediately known what Connor is.

“Shay, finally, there’s someone I’d like to introduce to you.”

Connor stands in that slightly awkward way of his. He doesn’t dwarf Shay but he’s both distinctly taller and bigger.

“Shay, this is Connor, my son.”

And there it is, the look I expected. Shay raises his eyebrows and his dark eyes go wide in simple surprise. No shock, no reproach, no rejection, no fear. Connor, meanwhile, is bristling with quite enough hostility for the both of them.

“Connor, this is Shay Cormac.”

“Connor. A pleasure.”

Shay smiles as he acknowledges him and holds out his hand.

A lot of my son’s anger and hostility suddenly drops from his shoulders and I wonder if it’s the effect of the outstretched hand or of his name, spoken so by Shay in that husky, lilting voice.

Shay is still waiting, his expression gently curious, and for a moment I wonder if Connor will ignore his outstretched hand.

Finally Connor takes it, without a word, and Shay’s warm smile widens.

Connor drops back into his chair, picks up his book and I motion Shay to the coffee table.

“How was your trip, Shay? I see you haven’t brought Captain Cook with you.”

“I invited him but he had his own people to report to. He hopes to join us tomorrow or the day after instead.”

Perfect. I wonder how much longer my luck will hold.

The barest squeak of the door tells us Connor has left.

Shay turns his frank gaze back to me.

“You never mentioned you had a son.”

He says the words matter-of-factly, no hint of reproach.

“I never knew until four days after you’d left. His mother never told me.”

Shay’s gaze goes to the closed door. He’s wondering what kind of person Connor’s mother could have been and what traits he and she might have shared that would have attracted me, and he’s probably come up with a blank. Certainly one would have to know Ziio’s qualities minutely to discern any hint of them in Connor.

“He’s an Assassin.”

“Yes, trained by Achilles.”

This catches Shay's attention and his gaze becomes searching.

“Has he tried to…?”

“Yes, but we’ve recently come to a kind of understanding. I’m… still hoping to bring him round to our ideas.”

In voicing this last thought I must have betrayed something of my weariness because Shay’s gaze instantly softens and in a quick movement he’s sitting beside me on the couch and my mouth is on his.

I kiss him hungrily but without violence - I’m too worn for that - and he allows me to take and take, generous and submissive.

I break the kiss and look into his handsome face, burying my hands more securely in his hair, my thumb rubbing the silken strands just over his ear.

“Did you miss me?”

I rarely allow myself to indulge in Shay and though he tries to hide his delight at my question, he can’t stop a bright flash of happiness from lighting up his eyes.

I kiss him again and again, my hunger for him growing the more I taste him.

The sound of the clock brings us back to the present, reminding us that dinner will be served in half an hour and we’ll be expected downstairs sooner than that.

“How can I help?”

“Keep Connor away from Charles, and… yes, perhaps Johnson too for the time being. I’ve warned Gist to keep his mouth shut but we should ask Jack to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t drink too much. The last thing we need is for Connor to find out about your past.”

Shay nods easily, his head pillowed by my arm lying along the back of the couch.

“He seems standoffish.”

That’s putting it mildly.

“He gets it from his mother.”

“He has your nose.”

“Yes. Not my best feature, I’m afraid. He has my father’s mouth.”

“Your cheekbones, too. And your disapproving frown.”

I bite his lip sharply in retaliation, making him laugh softly.

Resting my forehead against his temple, I drink in the smell of him I’ve missed so long, faint under the sharp smell of soap. No doubt the soap has also washed away the usual taste of salt on his skin.

I pull away and gaze down at him. He’s always more handsome than I remember. His is a different sort of beauty from Connor’s. His hair is even darker than Connor’s, as are his eyes - nearly black whereas Connor’s are almost as light as mine - and both are a stark contrast to the purity of his complexion, visible beneath the dusting of warm colour he’s acquired on the deck of the _Morrigan_ , whereas Connor’s skin looks like burnished bronze, against which his eyes are almost gold. My hawkling is unmistakably a creature of the North, whereas my son is a child of the earth and sun. Yet Shay’s sharp cheekbones and the scar over his brow give him something of Connor’s savage look.

“Do you think he’s handsome?”

“Very. Don’t you?”

He says this so mildly, as if the thing were self-evident. Yes, I think Connor is good-looking too but I also know that even if he’s mistaken for a Spaniard, few people on the street consider him worth even a first look. Shay’s Irish origins put him in a category just above but far still far below the likes of Johnson, Church and myself. Johnson and Shay have become very close despite this but then Johnson’s close ties with the natives wouldn’t have arisen if in his nature he’d been as prejudiced as Church, who still won’t give Shay the time of day.

Shay sees past all of this. He sees past appearances and only knows how to judge the substance of things. It has not occurred to him for one moment that there might be anything odd in his admission that he thinks my half-blood son an attractive man.

Why can’t Connor be more like Shay? Shay whose eyes have always been unclouded by prejudice. Connor too, I suppose, is free of prejudice in some ways but in him it manifests in the oddest ways, in strange refusals and rejections rather than acceptance.

“How old is he?”

“Seventeen. I know, he looks older.”

Yes, Connor’s face, with its hard planes, is already that of a man, and that large, powerful body is no child’s.

“Still, you must have been very young…”

“I was.”

I feel as though I’m breathing again for the first time in weeks. Connor’s presence has created some tension between myself and the others - especially Charles and Johnson - and there could have been so much awkwardness between Shay and I over Connor but of course there isn’t. We can talk of my son as easily as we do about the weather or the colour of the carpet.

I glance at the time and drag myself to my feet. As I make my way downstairs Shay follows a step behind as he always does. His expression, without being closed or stern, is now serious. He’s always been happy to leave the role of my second to Charles Lee, taking for himself that of my bodyguard. He takes this role very seriously, feeling as he does that he failed to protect George Monro. Though he doesn’t know it, Connor may have lost his chance now that Shay is back.

We all sit down to dinner and I seat Connor to my left with Shay beside him, hoping that between the two of us we can keep him under control.

At first Connor is stiff and silent but Shay’s relentless efforts to engage him finally pay and they start to converse more easily. Shay’s words can be mistaken, just as anybody’s can, but to mistake his meaning, conveyed with all his natural warmth and open acceptance, would take more bad faith than even Connor possess.

When they start making plans to go fox hunting together after dinner I decide it’s safe to turn my attention to the man on my right, a British naval envoy who became my regular contact soon after Louisbourg.

Dinner comes off without a hitch and I note that Jack Weeks too has done his part ensuring Gist moderated his alcohol intake.

As we prepare to move into the library for drinks, Shay quietly informs me that he and Connor want to leave for their hunt before it gets too dark. I nod, glancing at Connor who’s standing several feet away, already fully armed and looking difficult.

I want to say something to Shay about not staying out too long but that would be undignified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up in the next chapter, promised!


	2. Hunter & Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shay and Connor return from their hunt and Haytham is disappointed in his expectation of spending the night with Shay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNINGS*   
> Warning for dub-con (mostly rough handling and absence of explicit consent). Also voyeurism because hey - why not?   
> Read at your own discretion. And if you do, enjoy!

**Hunter & Prey**

 

It is almost eleven when I’m told Shay and Connor have returned from their hunt loaded with foxes. I’m surprised they stayed out this long. Shay is an exceptional hunter, Connor an even better one, and all those foxes in an open field can hardly have been any kind of challenge for them.

Unwilling to face another argument with Connor, I’ve given orders to have the two of them told I’ve already retired for bed, so I go to my room and change, intending to join Shay for the night in his bedroom, which adjoins mine.

They are both Assassins and I hear nothing until the sound of Shay’s door being opened, closed, then locked.

I’m already at the door when I hear Shay’s surprised voice.

“Connor, what-?!”

I freeze.

The door connecting our two rooms is hidden behind two large tapestries, one on my side, the other on Shay’s. All the lights are off in my room whereas a few low ones are on in Shay’s so I can see everything that is happening there through the weave of the tapestry.

I watch, too shocked to do or say anything, as Connor slams Shay against the far wall, near the bed. I wince, expecting the crack of his skull against the wall but when it doesn’t come I realise Connor has gripped Shay’s head in his hands, protecting it. The reason becomes apparent as Connor presses his body up against Shay, trapping him, then kisses him hard.

_What is happening? How has Connor not noticed my presence? And Shay?_

Shay’s arms come up to Connor’s chest but Connor quickly catches his wrists and easily traps them against the wall, holding them there with one hand.

Connor pulls away briefly and I’m struck by the contrast between his focussed, hungry expression, and Shay’s startled one. I don’t know what Connor is thinking and until I do I want to do nothing to antagonise him, not when his character is so volatile and Shay so vulnerable. Connor hasn’t actually hurt Shay yet so I wait, hoping to catch a sign from Shay.

That said, Connor is keeping him busy, kissing him again hard, leaning his forearms against the wall over Shay’s head. He eases one of his thighs between Shay’s and presses his body hard against his, trapping him as he one-handedly slips off his leather belt and uses it to bind Shay’s wrists together. I can see Shay struggling but I know as well as anyone the strength of Connor’s iron grip. Achilles may have many failings, but his attention to the physical training of his recruits is not one of them. Both Shay and Connor are always in peak physical condition, Connor was simply blessed (possibly by me) with a bigger, stronger body.

In one deft move, Connor pushes Shay onto the bed and settles over him, reaching up to secure his bound wrists to the bed frame. By now I have a fairly good idea of where this is going but I can’t seem to bring myself to move.

Connor is kissing Shay again and I wonder how they’re still breathing. His hands go to Shay’s Templar sash, untie it with a few tugs, then pull it free. He sits up, straddling Shay’s hips heavily, strategically pinning him down with all the weight of his 6’2’’ of muscle, and pulls the sash taut between his two hands.

Shay seems about to speak but is stopped by the dark look Connor sends him.

“I do not want to, but I will gag you if I have to.”

Shay simply shakes his head and Connor leans over to give him another hard kiss.

Connor unbuttons the waistcoat and the shirt under it. He grabs the sash again and slips it around Shay’s neck before tying it into the same sliding knot he uses to trap animals. He wraps the free end around his hand a couple of times then pulls slowly until it’s snug against Shay’s throat.

My throat goes dry as I realise that my chance to intervene has passed. Connor is immensely strong and if he pushed Shay off the bed while still holding the end of that sash it would be enough to break Shay’s neck.

Connor reaches over to unbind Shay’s wrists, still keeping the sash tight.

“Take them off.”

Shay obeys, slipping off both the waistcoat and shirt. Connor then calmly secures his wrists to the bed frame again.

He now kicks off his boots and starts to undress Shay, who watches him quietly, starting with the various belts and holsters, which he discards onto the floor.

The contrast between his careful, methodical actions, and the dark hunger in his eyes is disconcerting, even ominous.

Once he’s finished with Shay he quickly undresses himself then lays down on top of Shay again, wrapping his arms around his head and kissing him again.

I’m relieved to see that he doesn’t take hold of the sash again but I’m still in complete shock at what I’m witnessing. Connor hates being so much as tapped on the shoulder yet here he is pressing every inch of flesh he can against Shay’s.

I know from hints he’s dropped that he’s never been with a woman - or anyone else, for that matter - so I must assume that once again he’s acting on pure instinct. I also know that Shay is in a difficult position. Any move to escape must involve some attempt to harm Connor, which might trigger a violent retaliatory response.

Despite myself, I can’t help noting the pleasing contrast between Shay’s pale body and Connor’s bronze one and the smooth play of Connor’s muscles as he presses himself against Shay.

I see Connor pull away and bite Shay hard, just at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and as Shay gasps Connor immediately takes advantage and kisses him again, hard and deep.

One of his hands comes to rest on Shay’s flank as he continues to kiss Shay, sometimes breaking away to bite, suck or otherwise explore the rest of his body. I find myself admiring this detached duality. Connor’s obviously blind with lust and yet he still acts with the cool-headedness of the hunter he is. That palm he keeps pressed against Shay’s side allows him to monitor every one of Shay’s reactions, his breathing, his heart rate, every slight movement, and he regulates himself accordingly, quickly finding Shay’s sensitive areas and the things that please him the most.

He eventually moves off him.

“Turn over.”

Shay obeys, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at Connor over his shoulder. He looks delicious, tousled and marked with bites and bruises. Connor hasn’t spared him.

Connor seems to hesitate a moment then moves forward, running his hands along Shay’s smooth back as he comes to rest on him, like a large cat claiming a mate or a prey. Again he covers as much of Shay’s body as he can with his own, then presses his hips hard against him.

I can hear Shay’s quiet sounds. Is he enjoying this?

Connor moves away, sits on his haunches and after placing a hand on Shay’s flank again, runs his fingertips down his spine, down until he reaches the soft pouch between his legs. He handles it a moment and whatever he does makes Shay breathe in sharply. I see Connor run a cool, assessing eye over the pale figure before him as he continues. No doubt he’s established that Shay isn’t in pain.

“Up.”

When Shay raises his hips Connor grabs the spare blanket, rolls it up and tucks it under his hips before starting to caress Shay’s length, testing, trying.

He seems utterly in control but his impressive arousal makes it clear he won’t be able to wait too much longer.

His fingers move back, then higher, exploring, and suddenly Shay jerks sharply.

Without a word, Connor reaches between his own clothes and pulls a vial out of one of the pouches on his belt. He pours some of its content onto his fingers before placing them back, rubbing Shay’s side soothingly as he would a startled horse.

Again, I’m amazed at how sound Connor’s instincts are. He probes and feels, exploring and gauging all Shay's reactions. Suddenly, Shay’s body tenses up and Connor frowns slightly in concentration, searching for the specific spot that gave him so much pleasure.

He withdraws his fingers, takes the bottle again, pours more of its contents into his palm and spreads it on his hard length.

He catches Shay watching him over his shoulder and something in Shay’s expression must spark something in him because from cool his eyes are suddenly ablaze and I go cold, terrified he might hurt Shay.

To my surprise, Connor grabs Shay’s pale cheeks, spreading them before burying his face between them, kissing Shay there as hard as he’d kissed his mouth earlier.

Shay groans softly, burying his face in his pillow as Connor presses harder against him, his hand again straying to Shay’s side, still checking. Shay’s reactions tell him all he needs to know and he learns quickly. Soon Shay is a shuddering mess and Connor moves away, grabs his erection and starts to firmly push it into Shay, his free hand still on Shay’s side.

As his head slips in, Connor lets out a low, harsh growl, almost the first sound he’s made since this all started. He starts to move slowly, trying, learning. When Shay’s hips suddenly snap in pleasure he starts thrusting with more confidence, aiming carefully until he finds the place. He gives short, hard thrusts with all the control his powerful, well-trained body allows and Shay is soon gasping helplessly.

Another growl from Connor as he slows his pace a little, giving longer thrusts as he powers through Shay’s climax, enjoying his share of it though it doesn’t push him over. Shay’s whole body relaxes but he’s propped up by the blanket beneath him so Connor continues to thrust slowly, moving, changing his position until he’s bent over Shay, truly mounting him. Shay moans softly as Connor finally sheathes himself fully with a few strokes, finding another sensitive spot deep inside him.

Connor continues to thrust lazily, taking his own pleasure and pacing himself as he waits for Shay to recover.

Sure enough, Shay's body soon starts tensing again and Connor's movements pick up speed and he hooks his arms around Shay's hips to hold him as he takes him violently.

I can see Shay's body seize as he comes and Connor continues to thrust until he reaches his own climax a couple of minutes later, spilling himself inside Shay with a few powerful thrusts.

I receive another shock as I see Connor bite the back of Shay’s neck in an exact imitation of what I myself often do.

Connor then pulls away slowly, looking down, and as he carefully pulls out, some of his seed leaks out of Shay’s body. Connor watches then leans in and with the tip of his tongue gathers and pushes it back in before covering Shay with his mouth, sucking hard on him, pushing his tongue into him, making him gasp. Shay must be exhausted but he soon starts pushing back against Connor’s mouth and Connor wraps his arms around his hips, holding him tight.

Connor finally pulls away and meets Shay’s gaze over his shoulder. Then he parts Shay’s cheeks and dribbles the seed he collected up in his mouth, now mixed with his saliva, back into him.

It is the most erotic thing I have seen in my life.

Shay continues to watch as Connor gives his hardening shaft a few firm strokes then buries his face against his pillow, gasping, as Connor eases himself into him again. Once he’s sheathed, Connor lies down on top of Shay and starts to cover his neck and shoulders with bites and kisses while he rolls his hips against Shay’s.

Shay’s breathing is shallow and irregular. My poor hawkling is exhausted but evidently helpless against the pleasure Connor is giving him and he eventually comes again, though with less violence this time. Connor continues to move until he too reaches climax, then he slides off Shay and settles onto his side, reaching up to untie Shay’s wrists from the bed frame, though he leaves them bound together.

Connor moves until his body fits right against Shay’s and settles a hand on his stomach, his fingers splaying over it. He buries his face against Shay’s hair.

“I want you to say my name.”

“Connor.”

Connor props himself up on one elbow.

“No, my real name. Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

Shay shifts, turning slightly to look up at him.

“Mohawk?”

Connor nods.

“Say it again?”

Connor repeats it slowly and Shay repeats it after him.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

Connor corrects his pronunciation and when Shay says it next he seems satisfied, bending to bite Shay’s throat gently. I understand the instinct. The harsh sounds in Connor’s native name bring out all the huskiness in Shay’s voice.

“Again.”

Shay complies and this time Connor bites his mouth slowly.

Connor pulls Shay onto his back and shifts onto him, quickly easing himself between Shay’s thighs and Shay locks his bound arms around his neck as Connor devours his mouth.

Connor’s hips press rhythmically against Shay’s and at a sharp hiss from Shay I know my young, vigorous son has taken him again.

Connor pulls Shay’s long legs up high around his waist and Shay locks them there in the small of his back, steadying himself as Connor shifts their position until he’s sitting cross-legged on the bed with Shay in his lap. Shay moans softly as he’s slowly impaled on Connor’s length by gravity and the gentle rocking of Connor’s hips.

After all their exertions, it takes even longer for Shay to peak and Connor, already more experienced, comes almost immediately after him. For one so young, he has remarkable self-control.

As he gives the last slow thrusts, emptying himself, Connor kisses Shay again, deeply but gently. He lays him back against the pillows then pulls away slightly and brushes away a few wet strands from Shay’s face before burying his fingers in his hair and bending to him again to gently suck the sweat from his skin.

Shay’s arms are still around Connor’s neck and I see him splay his hands over Connor’s back and shoulders before running them up into Connor’s long dark hair.

I hear Shay murmur Connor’s native name again, followed by a few words, presumably in Mohawk and Connor answers in kind, his voice low and softer than I’ve ever heard it.

Connor looks down into Shay’s face a moment longer before carefully easing himself off him, putting a strong arm around Shay to draw him up against himself as he curls up beside him.

He nuzzles Shay’s neck, not gently but possessively, and murmurs more words that I don’t catch.

Shay answers sleepily, eyes already closed, his entire body limp with exhaustion.

“Goodnight.”

I watch a few moments longer but there is no more movement and so I go back to my room, carefully closing the door behind myself.

I lay awake in bed for what feels like hours, listening for sounds from next door, before falling into fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor might have seemed a little OOC here but I think he has his own dark side and he has strong hunter instincts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, when the coast is clear, Haytham goes creeping into Shay's room...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In my head, Shay and Haytham look the way they do in Rogue, and Connor looks the way he does when Haytham first drops onto him - I know, it makes no timeline-kind of sense XD But let's face it, it's just not that kind of fic!)
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! Both always welcome! <3

**REMAINS OF THE NIGHT**

 

I wake before dawn the next morning and pad over to the door, opening it carefully.

Shay is still asleep, alone in his bed, and looking further into the room I see Connor standing at the far side, entirely naked before a washbasin as he cleans himself.

I’ve seen my son naked before, in the same sort of situation, washing himself while we were on a mission together, but I’m struck afresh at his exceptional physical condition. The low morning light shows up the reliefs and planes of his hard body, the broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and strong legs, that chest and that back where every muscle is beautifully delineated.

I’m a handsome man, squarely in my prime, and I’ve always been confident in my powers of attraction, but I don’t think I’ve ever reached such pinnacles of physical perfection. I’ve felt this before, looking at Shay, but I feel it even more keenly now as look at my own son, my own flesh.

Once he’s clean, Connor dresses quickly then goes over to Shay to retrieve his belt and once he’s settled the leather belt with its Assassin emblem about his trim hips, he bends over the sleeping figure, pressing a kiss against the dark hair and murmuring a few words before slipping out of the room.

I wait, in case he’s forgotten something, then push the tapestry aside and step in.

Shay is a highly-trained assassin, used to living in danger and only sleeping in shifts for a few hours at time, so it’s a sign of his physical exhaustion that he hasn’t woken in conditions that would ordinarily have caused him to do so instantaneously.

I sit by the side of the bed, running my gaze over him.

Connor pulled the blankets and throws up over him but even so there are plenty of marks still visible. Those on his wrists where the tightly-wound leather chafed, emerging bruises along his cheekbones and a bite mark along his jawline. And his lips… a bruised and bleeding mess.

I pull away the sash still wound about Shay’s neck and am relieved to find no mark there.

Shay shifts and his eyes open sleepily. Then they go wide and he turns to look at the empty hollow beside him.

“He goes hunting every morning at dawn.”

I reach out to stroke his hair gently.

“How are you, Shay?”

“I’m fine.”

He smiles and turns his head to place a kiss against my palm.

“You look a mess.”

“Nothing that won’t heal.”

Now he bites the base of my thumb gently and I smile inexplicably, thinking of all the wounds and injuries Shay’s had to recover from over the years.

“That’s setting the bar very low, Shay.”

He laughs quietly and reaches out to touch me but pauses, looking surprised, when he catches sight of his wrist.

“Did that really happen?”

“It did. Though I’m still not sure what _that_ was.”

I ease myself onto the bed beside him, laying my head down on the pillow.

“I’m going to wring his neck.”

“He’s your son…”

I’m not sure what he means by this _non sequitur_.

“Let’s wait and see what happens. Perhaps it was just a release of juvenile frustration.”

“I don’t believe that any more than you do, Shay.”

Connor is nothing if not single-minded and I worry at the implications of this new obsession of his.

Shay, by comparison, looks untroubled. As always, he has faith when I have doubts.

I lean in and kiss his mouth gently, careful not to hurt him, but Shay presses up against me, deepening the kiss.

When we break apart I look into his eyes.

“You’re sure you-?”

“Yes.”

His hands, buried in my hair, pull me down for another kiss and I painstakingly move myself onto him, wondering how I can avoid hurting him. I shouldn’t do this. He’s hurt and tired. But we’ve been apart for so long.

I’ve just eased myself between his thighs and into him when we hear the sound of the door being firmly closed - almost slammed - and looking up at it, we see Connor glowering at us.

I crouch over Shay protectively.

“Shay was mine long before you took him, Connor.”

Connor seems utterly unmoved by this.

“I want him.”

“So I should just give him to you? Look at the state he’s in because of you!”

“It has not stopped you.”

Before I can explode, Shay calls out to Connor, using his native name. He holds out his hand and speaks another word in Mohawk that must mean ‘come’ because Connor immediately goes over to him, forcing me to straighten slightly to make room for him.

Connor murmurs a few more words in his own tongue and looks down at him a moment before leaning in to kiss him slowly.

Shay gives my arm a warning squeeze just as I’m about to protest. I soon feel him move beneath me, his legs tightening around me, encouraging me. I start to move inside him and Shay arches up. Connor pulls back slightly and glances at me in anger but is quickly distracted by Shay’s soft gasps of pleasure that are soon swallowed up by more kisses.

Shay’s hand on my arm tightens its hold, as do his legs, and I comply with his unspoken request, soon breaking out in sweat at the strain of trying to please him without hurting him. I soon push him over the edge, forcing him to break his kiss with Connor.

Connor looks at me again, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you.”

Shay’s words seem to be addressed to the both of us and my son and I share another adversarial look.

“Stay in bed today, Shay,” I say quietly as I tidy myself up, “I’ll think of something to tell the others.”

“Captain Cook will expect to see me at dinner.”

I swear softly.

“Will he be offended if we postpone dinner until tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll write to him.”

Connor continues to watch Shay broodingly.

“Shall I bring you breakfast?”

“I think I’ll sleep a little longer, Connor, but thank you. Could you bring me lunch later instead?”

Connor nods.

“And if you can grab a pen and some paper I’ll write that note to James.”

Connor soon returns with a pen, inkwell, paper and moves a small table for him.

Shay’s hand trembles as he writes. There’s no way the observant James Cook won’t notice.

“I’ll write it, Shay.”

He nods, looking a little sheepish - a master assassin laid low by the attentions of an seventeen-year-old…

I fold up his draft and put it in my pocket, making a mental note to send Gist and Weeks out on errands so they won’t drop in on Shay.

I stand but looking down at Shay I can’t resist kissing him one last time.

“Rest, I’ll check in on your later.”

He nods slightly, smiling.

“Connor, with me.”

Connor quickly kisses Shay too then follows me, glaring balefully.

 

* * *

 

“What will Shay do tomorrow?”

I wonder, not for the first time, if Connor realises that I’m trying to work.

He’s back in his corner, holding and still ignoring the same book he had yesterday.

“You mean if he’s recovered enough to leave the house?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you not his Grand Master?”

“I am. But Shay is an independent agent. He manages his own affairs.”

“Such as?”

“No doubt he’ll want to look over any repairs and provisioning of the _Morrigan_ and to check in with his lieutenants. Shay is the nominal head of all six of our bases here in New York.”

I let the implication hang in the air between us. If Connor wants New York for his Brotherhood, he’ll have to get rid of Shay.

I know this will give him pause but I still don’t understand why. What does Connor see in Shay? What has bound him to Shay so hard and so fast? If I can understand that, I may have the key to understanding his character.

At his next words, it becomes obvious that Connor’s thoughts have been following a similar path.

“What do you see in him?”

“Connor, I must ask you now to give up any delusion that you can argue an entitlement to Shay.”

“You think you are more entitled because you have known him longer?”

“No. Although I might argue I treat him better.”

“Really?”

“You raped him.”

“Is that what he said?”

“It’s written all over his body in teeth marks and bruises.”

He eyes me, his expression unreadable.

We’ve both touched sensitive points. There’s no denying Shay is a wreck and his decision to skip breakfast and rest instead made its impression on Connor. But while I could comfortably argue that Connor forced Shay the first two times he took him, even I can’t deny their final round looked more consensual.

“Should I go check on him?”

I glance at the time. It’s been three hours. Yes, he might be hungry or thirsty.

“If you could.”

Connor pauses at the door.

“Aren’t you going to forbid me from touching him again?”

“Do I need to?”

“And Shay? Will you forbid him from touching me?”

That was calculated to hurt me. He’s learning.

“I’ve never forbidden Shay anything. I don’t plan to start now.”

I’m sure this answer surprises Connor, though he gives no sign of it.

As the door is about to close behind him I continue.

“Oh, and Connor? I expect you back here within the half hour.”

An instant’s hesitation then the door closes.

Interesting. Connor usually meets that sort of comment with a challenge along the lines of ‘or what?’. There’s no need now. Shay has not rejected him but we both know he would not follow him if he left - would not choose Connor over me. I have only to ask Connor to leave my house to place Shay out of his reach.

This new submissiveness reveals the depth of his attraction to Shay.

I concentrate on my work, determined to get as much done as possible during my thirty minutes of respite and by the time he returns I’ve called for tea, ready for a much needed break.

I’m immediately mollified by Connor’s guilty expression.

“Come, Connor, have some tea.”

We settle at the coffee table and I offer him tea and scones. He accepts both with unusual civility.

“How is he?”

“Fine. I brought him tea, some bread and cheese. He asked me to tell you he is finishing up the report on his trip.”

I nod. Shay would not complain, especially not to Connor, but he hates bed rest and he must be frustrated at being confined to his room when he has so many other things to see to. This report is a way of keeping busy.

Connor eyes the scone dubiously. I’ve offered them to him in the past but this is the first time he’s accepted.

“He speaks Mohawk well. How long did he spend with the Oneida?”

So, they’ve spoken enough for Connor to place the dialect Shay speaks.

“He’s been a friend of the tribe for years. Johnson says they think of Shay as one of their own. They’ve been to Orenda together a few times and Shay goes there often.”

I’d expected him to ask me about this. I noticed their use of this language I don’t speak - Shay uses it to include Connor, Connor uses it to exclude me. And whatever the reasons for Connor’s attraction, this friendship of Shay’s with his people is bound to put the final seal on it.

“He said that if you agree, I can accompany him one of these days.”

“I’ll consider it.”

I have no real objections - I no longer fear that Connor will do Shay any real harm - but I’m enjoying Connor’s grovelling too much to cut it short.

“I should tell you, Connor, that I’m putting you on probation until Shay’s injuries have all healed. I won’t have you alone with him for more than half an hour at a time until I’m sure you can be trusted.”

His expression immediately becomes a little surly.

“That should be Shay’s decision.”

“I think you’ll find he won’t challenge me on this.”

Or anything else, for that matter, but no point going into that now.

Connor is glowering at me but he knows he’s stuck. We’re both aware that in the circumstances I’m being quite lenient, and that even the conditions I’m imposing are a form of acceptance.

He’s frowning unhappily, lost in thought.

“What were you thinking, Connor?”

I ask gently. I just want to understand.

He raises his gaze to me, looking lost and confused.

“I… wasn’t. I just knew I had to have him. I didn’t know what else to do.”

I’ve noticed my son was not properly socialised. No doubt the many traumas he’s gone through in his young life have something to do with it, and Achilles’ track record when it comes to raising well-adjusted youths is far from brilliant. Connor has trouble expressing his emotions - part of the reason why he usually devolves into anger during our conversations - and yet it is plain that what he feels for Shay goes far beyond simple physical attraction. I wonder if this is his way of showing affection, this violent giving of physical pleasure. Ziio’s approach was not as violent or explicit but it was as direct - she certainly didn’t wait two years for me to understand her desires the way I waited for Shay. Shay has not taken Connor’s behaviour as violence or brutality and I’ve never yet been wrong to trust Shay’s instincts.

“I trust it will not happen again, now you know Shay likes you.”

He continues to look at me. He does know and I respect him for not asking me for confirmation.

“Does it bother you?”

“What bothers me is seeing him too weak to hold a quill and too bruised and broken to show his face in public.”

He hangs his head slightly.

“You care for him.”

“I do.”

“More than you did about my mother?”

He looks up at me now. It takes me a moment to answer. Connor only informed me of Ziio’s death a couple of weeks ago and I’m still processing it. And still grieving.

“Your mother left _me_.”

I wait for him to blame me for her death as he usually does but this time nothing. Perhaps now that he’s starting to know me better he’s having a harder time believing it of me.

I stand and go back to my desk.

I don’t mean to be rude to Connor but the thought of Ziio’s death still upsets me, as does knowing that Connor thinks it was done on my orders.

Ever since he told me, I’ve been trying to uncover the truth, slowly following the long and tangled thread that will lead me to it, and I don’t know if Connor can forgive me without it.

And I don’t know how our relationship can ever become what it should if he doesn’t.


	4. Brick by Brick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the upheaval, the dust starts to settle and life continues, albeit a little differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, was away from home a lot longer than expected!

**Brick by Brick**

 

As I slip into his bed, Shay settles in the crook of my arm and I stroke his hair idly.

“What did you say to Connor last night, in Mohawk?”

“Last night? I told him I was too tired for any more.”

“And what did he say this morning?”

“That he was sorry he got carried away.”

That’s putting it mildly. But then I too failed to resist Shay.

“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have taken you this morning.”

“But I was gone so long, I missed you… I still do.”

He’s so innocently plaintive that I almost give in to temptation. As I look into Shay’s dark eyes I’m struck by the realisation that the events of the last couple of days have not changed anything between us.

“I had to put my foot down to have you to myself tonight.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm.”

“All the same. It won’t hurt him to meditate on his behaviour for a few days. He said you offered to take him with you for a day.”

“Aye. I thought that if he could see what we’re trying to do…”

Yes, that’s been my hope too. I’ve kept him close in the hope that after watching me lay down brick after brick he may one day come to visualise what I’m trying to build.

I suddenly realise what Shay might be thinking, that he might still succeed where I’ve failed, or at the very least that we can work together to bring Connor around to our ideas.

That is my only chance to save my son, for if I can’t persuade him to join us then he must die. I’m under no illusions as to his role. We all treat him as one of Achilles’ assassins but where Achilles is the head, Connor is the arm, and without Connor to carry out his will and build up the Brotherhood again, recruiting and training recruits, the Brotherhood will quickly fall to nothingness again.

Connor’s disappearance assures that of the Brotherhood, but even better would be to have him working for us, like Shay. The havoc Connor caused recently has reminded me that our hold in the Colonies, as yet secure, is far from unbreakable.

“That’s what the Colonel did when we first met.”

_Ah._

I’m surprised - and slightly exasperated - to discover that while I’m not at all jealous of the living Connor, I can still be jealous of the dead George Monro.

I fall silent, still thinking through the implications of the situation I’m now in. I’d anticipated a whole host of scenarios of what might happen when Shay and Connor met. This wasn’t one of them and I’m not sure where we go from here.

Shay touches a finger to my mouth, drawing me from my thoughts, and I bite the tip gently.

“You really don’t mind?”

I shake my head. Even I don’t understand it. I’ve always been possessive about Shay. Why I should not be utterly hostile to a rival - especially one as violently possessive as Connor clearly is - remains a mystery to me. Yet I have spent the day sounding my soul and there it is. Connor has taken nothing from me. Whatever relationship Shay and Connor are building, it is no threat to my place in Shay’s heart and life.

“I’ll just have to make sure he keeps his demands on you reasonable.”

Likely a difficult proposition. Connor is not exactly famous for his sense of moderation and balance, he’s very much like his mother in that way - with her it was all or nothing and woe betide you if you fell foul of her high expectations.

Now Shay… Shay is quite different. His immediate reactions to things can be quite strong but he can be made to see nearly every shade of grey and when he can’t see or understands he simply trusts. I will never cease being grateful for Shay and there’s something reassuring in the thought that it is whatever part of me I have passed on to Connor that is still drawn to Shay.

Pulling Shay close, I kiss his hair then listen to his slowing breathing. He’s still recovering from his long expedition and from last night but he’ll be fine - my beautiful hawkling will be just fine. And whatever comes, we’ll face it together.

* * *

 

I have a big dinner planned for tonight but at the moment the house is wonderfully quiet and it’s just the three of us having breakfast.

“What are your plans for today, Shay? Nothing too tiring, I hope.”

“No, I wanted to go visit the Finnegans. I haven’t had a chance to since I got back and I have to stop by Fort Arsenal to check the men and the _Morrigan_ so it’ll be on the way. I also want to go down the the Waterfront base, there’ve been more brawls in the area this past week. It’s probably just the newest lot of drunken sailors fresh off the boat but I thought I’d better check anyway.”

“I see. Perhaps Connor could help you.”

We both turn to Connor who is staring at us wearing a dazed look that makes him look ten years younger, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth.

“Well, Connor? Any interest in making yourself useful?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

He spends the rest of breakfast stealing surreptitious glances at us, perhaps trying to guess at whose initiative the invitation was extended.

It will do him good, to visit the Finnegans, who are like parents to Shay and will no doubt adopt Connor just as quickly as they did Shay if he will only let them. Barry and Cassidy are warm, down-to-earth people, the very sort in whose name and interest Connor and his Assassins think they act.

As for our New York bases… I’ll just have to trust that Shay will know to show him enough to pique his interest, and hold back enough not to endanger any of our operations.

When they return they stop by my study, Shay looking very pleased with himself and Connor looking more subdued and thoughtful than usual, absent the recriminations and surliness I’ve come to expect from him. The Finnegans had a cream tea ready for them, and apparently Connor was instrumental in tracking down and dealing with the troublemaker.

Connor grimaces slightly at being reminded to change for dinner but his displeasure does not stretch to a vocalised comment.

An hour or so later, we’re greeting the first guests.

“Master Kenway, thank you for the invitation!”

“Captain Cook, always a pleasure.”

I welcome James Cook, hoping this is not a mistake. Due to conflicting schedules and last minute engagements, his coming here was delayed, giving Shay’s bruises time to start fading but they’re still visible - particularly a distinguishable bite mark high on Shay’s jaw near his ear. Knowing James as I do I fully expect him to notice, what can’t foresee is what he’ll make of them.

Shay approaches with Connor a step behind him.

“Did you have an accident, Captain Cormac?”

“Aye! I clumsily slipped down some stairs before I got my land legs back!”

James Cook joins in Shay’s laughter but I’m sure he’s wondering which one of the Mansion’s staircases bites when indecorously handled.

Shay introduces Connor and the three of them help themselves to pre-dinner drinks - juice for Connor who has no head for alcohol - and conversation instantly going to ships. It continues as we all go through to dinner and take our places around the table. I don’t understand the obsession, but I’ve often had occasion to be thankful for it because it keeps these sailing types occupied and creates a near instant bond. Sure enough, even Connor, who usually warms to strangers very slowly, if at all, soon joins the conversation. I know he’s already spent a few years refitting one of the Brotherhood’s ships, the _Aquila_.

When they start discussing the ‘rake’ of masts and drawing things in the congealing gravy on their plates with their knives I decide it’s safe to leave them to it.

As our places are cleared for the dessert course and the guest on my right turns to speak with the man on _his_ right, I check back in on Shay’s group.

They’re now discussing naval strategies in the event of a conflict between Britain and her Colonies and I see Connor listening attentively. This is not something he has as much experience with and I wonder if I am investing in my son or giving away our Order’s secrets and that of the Empire to Achilles.

Captain James Cook is the last to leave and only does so after Shay promises to visit him aboard the _Pembroke_ and to bring Connor with him.

We all bid each other goodnight and after getting ready for bed I join Shay in his room. He’s still wiping himself down so I go over and help him.

“Dinner was a success.”

“It was. You did a wonderful job handling Connor and James.”

I run the washcloth over his back and shoulders where the bruises are entering their final, ‘yellow’ phase.

Shay steps away and after throwing the washcloth back into the basin, I sit down on the bed, waiting and watching as he dries himself briskly.

“I’m surprised James and Connor aren’t jealous of each other.”

“I’ve told you it’s not like that!”

Hmm. Methinks the lady doth protest too much.

“Besides, I already promised Connor I’d take him aboard the _Morrigan_ so this is as good a reason as any.”

“You promised to _take him_?”

Shay laughs and shakes his head.

“You know, that he can come aboard.”

“Ah, that he can _come_ aboard. That sounds more like your usual play.”

I trap him beneath me as he continues to shake his head at me in amusement. I kiss him deeply and murmur my next words against his mouth.

“May I _come_ too, Captain Cormac?”

“As you like, Master Kenway.”

Those words, spoken in that soft, husky voice, are enough to make me hard but I look into Shay’s eyes, trying to read them. I haven’t touched him since the morning after Connor had him and I want to be sure I won’t hurt him.

That said, Shay has never denied me and his hunger for me has always matched mine for him, so his reactions are not the most reliable indicators.

“Are you sure? Perhaps we should wait, you’re still-.”

“No, I’m sure. Please! It’s been so long…”

Shay needs me at least as much as I need him. While I stay here shuffling papers and talking to people over lunch and tea and dinner and coffee and sherry, he’s out on some of the harshest waters in the world, risking his life daily and hourly, this time in a skirmish with the French, then to defend a merchant ship, to hunt down a whale or a narwhal with a horn long enough to pierce the _Morrigan_ ’s hull twice over, to lead James Cook into inaccessible bays and onto ice-banks to press the first human prints onto the powder snow.

“From behind, then? It will be easier-.”

“No, I want to look at you. Please…”

How could I resist? When I too want to look into his dark eyes and drink up all the unspoken things in them - all the things that have aways remained unspoken between us even though they’re so real and visible to us both they might be solid to the touch.

“All right.”

His mouth opens for mine as I lean down, his tongue already reaching mine, greedy and impatient as he always is and he gasps and bites my tongue, not hard, when my fingers close over him and start to tug gently. When I pull away and start to move lower his fingers catch in my hair.

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to, Shay.”

There is nothing I enjoy more than watching Shay in pleasure and besides, it will help him last a little longer and I intend to take my time with him while I have him all to myself.

At the very first lick, Shay already has his cheek pressed against the pillow, eyes still on me by nearly closing and soon when he feels my teeth on him they do close and he throws his head back, grasping for the bars of the bed frame. I stroke oil-slicked fingers over his entrance but haven’t even had time to push in before he’s spilling himself in my mouth. Always too sensitive.

Bashful and trembling, he watches me as my fingers breach him and I stroke him slowly, within and without, coaxing him back into another upward spiral of quickened breathing and fingers scrabbling at the bedsheets and by the time I move back onto him to take him, he’s breathless and pleading. His impatience and feverish haste peak as I take him and only when I’m finally sheathed inside him does his claw-like grip on my arm and shoulder finally loosen a little.

“Shay, I can barely move.”

Unwilling, almost grudging, he loosens the iron band of his legs around me just enough that I can move my hips, slow and deliberate, to stroke him deep within, burying myself in his wet, welcoming heat.

“I missed you.”

Barely a breath between two clenched gasps.

“I missed you too, Shay. You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

He nods, unsurprised, burying his face against my neck. It’s a request I often make when we’ve been apart for a long time and I pace myself to help him but even so the last of the sounds I wrest from him are closer to sobs than sighs. My poor hawkling, he’s giving me even the last fibre of his strength to hold back and when he feels my release that last shred of control snaps and he comes with all the intensity he’s held pent up inside him.

Trembling in the aftermath, he can’t even open his eyes as I suck the sweat from his skin, from his temple, the corner of his eye, his forehead, the shadow beneath his bottom lip.

It has been a long time, the longest period of time we’ve ever been apart since we met. Every time we come together like this it is like the very first time - like coming home, to a safe and familiar place, where you know what is on each shelf and every drawer. I could never have foreseen Connor’s actions but I could have plotted out the minutest of Shay’s reactions to them.

Shay settles into his favourite position against me, head on my shoulder and one knee tucked onto my thigh, and I tighten my hold on him, keeping him pressed close.

“He’s given you a name in his own tongue, hasn’t he?”

I should be irritated by Connor’s petty attempts to assert a claim on Shay but frankly I find them amusing, even a little endearing.

Shay nods, yawning, his eyes already closing sleepily.

“ _Night of moonlight and starlight_.”

Well…

On this edifying note, I shift Shay a little closer to me before settling into sleep.

I immediately wake again at the sound of the door opening, as does Shay.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton?”

Connor stands in the doorway hesitantly, shifting from one foot to the other.

“May I sleep here tonight?”

Shay glances up at me and I nod.

“Very well.”

Shay presses himself closer to me to make space as Connor undresses then slips into bed behind him, moulding his body to Shay’s.

He buries his face against Shay’s neck, mumbling a few words in Mohawk, then raises his gaze to me, looking straight into my eyes.

He can probably smell me all over Shay’s skin or at the very least guess why it’s dewy with sweat and for a moment I wonder if there’s going to be a fight.

“Goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on how Haytham and Connor's relationship develops in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor makes a request that results in some unusual father-son bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'll just put in a couple of lines of dialogue over lunch before jumping into the action...*  
> Well, that was a fail.  
> But there is action eventually XD

**Everything is Permitted**

 

As my meeting with Pitcairn comes to a close, I see him to the door of my study and as Pitcairn leaves, Connor, who was waiting just behind the door, slips through, always surprisingly nimble despite his size.

Shay will be out all day with Jack Weeks and Connor uncharacteristically opted to stay here at the mansion with me rather than joining them.

“I finished the book you lent me.”

He sets the book down on the coffee table. His attitude has improved a thousandfold since Shay’s return.

“What did you think?”

“It raises some interesting points.”

“Do you want to discuss it?”

He shakes his head.

“I would like some time to think about it first.”

“As you wish, just let me know if you have questions or want to talk.”

I sit down at my desk but I still feel his gaze on me.

“Yes, Connor?”

“Do you have time for a break, father?”

I glance at the clock, intrigued by all this good behaviour.

“I suppose so. It will be time for tea soon. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitates.

“Would you teach me how to… please Shay?”

Not what I was expecting.

“You already do, Connor.”

His expression clouds.

I can’t teach Connor to fish, or hunt, or tie his shoelaces, or any of the other things fathers teach their sons to bond with them. He’s learnt to do these things without me and can do most better than I can. Perhaps the only way left for me to bond with my son is over our common love for Shay. A bond between the three of us: Shay, who was an Assassin; Connor, who is one; and I, a Templar Grand Master with Assassin’s blood in my veins.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I want to learn to please him with my mouth.”

_Well…_

I look at my son and think about what he’s asking me, what he _knows_ he is asking me.

 _Everything is permitted_.

“Very well. Lock the doors.”

I draw the curtains, wondering how Connor and I - both so touch-averse - can have come to this.

“On the couch.”

Connor immediately obeys and I can’t help thinking how much simpler life would be if he would just trust me in other matters in the same way.

I sit on the couch beside him and wait as he frees himself from his breeches. Even at rest his length and girth are impressive.

Taking him in my hands carefully, I start to explain the name, function and particularities of his anatomy, and as I talk he seems to relax, listening carefully and evidently taking mental note.

I show him how to caress, how stroke, how to vary rhythm and pressure, where the most sensitive areas are, how best to touch them, where to pull and where to rub. Gradually, very gradually, he starts to swell and harden. I’m surprised at his resistance to pleasure.

“Lean back, close your eyes.”

Just a moment’s hesitation before he does as I ask - this will the be most vulnerable he’s ever allowed himself to be in my presence.

He starts slightly when I put my mouth to him and slowly work on him. I sometimes pause to explain what I’m doing and tell him how to focus on what he’s feeling. He continues to swell and harden and as I lap up a drop on his tip I wonder if I’ll be able to take all his heat.

His hitched breathing tells me he’s enjoying my attentions and I’m surprised he’s managed to hold back. I finally take his head into my mouth and his hips buck slightly. I pause and release him, giving him more explanations. I’m starting to enjoy the challenge. It’s been some time since I’ve used my skills so extensively. Shay is pathetically sensitive and can’t withstand such ministrations.

I toy with him a while longer, having utterly lost track of time, finally taking him deep into my mouth. This he seems to enjoy thoroughly.

In a matter of minutes he releases and I swallow down his seed, sucking until there’s none left.

I sit up, wipe my mouth with my handkerchief and glance at the clock. Hmm, I won’t have time to stop for tea, I’ll have to drink it while I work.

Connor slowly sits up and tidies himself away.

“Thank you.”

“Think you’ll remember it all?”

He gives this a moment’s serious thought, blithely unaware I’m teasing him.

“I’m not sure.”

“You probably won’t have to. Shay has not a quarter of your resistance.”

I smile to myself as I settle at my desk. It’s what makes Shay so much fun in the bedroom - he’s so beautiful in pleasure.

“Could… I practice?”

“Tonight? I doubt Shay will object.”

“I thought… on you…”

Again, not what I was expecting.

“Give me an hour or so to finish writing these letters. I want them sent off before lunch.”

He nods.

“I will be out hunting. And I will have someone bring your tea.”

“Thank you, Connor.”

He can be quite charming when he wants to be.

 

“Perhaps it was despotism once, perhaps even until recently, but since the Glorious Revolution the monarch’s rights and prerogatives have been greatly curtailed, Connor. The right to property is sacrosanct now. The Crown can no longer simply dismiss the debts it incurs nor can it expropriate the common man to raise the money to pay these debts.”

“The Crown _is_ expropriating _my people_!”

“Your people are not the Crown’s subjects. Why should the Crown protect your rights?”

Shay and the others have not returned for lunch so Connor and I are alone, arguing over his understanding of the texts I’ve had him read, works by Montesquieu, Locke and such.I am cautiously optimistic about the fact that he’s even willing to discuss them with me, rather than just flinging unfounded accusations at me, that he’s showing signs of attempting to understand.

“I don not expect the Crown to protect our rights, I expect the Crown to respect them!”

“As you respect those of the Algonquian tribes?”

“That is fair fighting.”

“That is fighting with equal weapons - stone for stone, stick for stick, and may the strongest win and claim the spoils. Fighting stick to musket is not fighting with equal weapons and perhaps the strongest win too easily but it still _is_ \- it still _was_ , because you’ve already lost the struggle, Connor, even if you won’t admit it - a fight along lines that you recognise. What you object to, Connor, is that you are faced with a force vastly superior to your own, against which you have _no chance_ of winning and by whose rules you are now forced to play. You would have been no happier if your village had been overrun by the Abenaki and you were suddenly forced to live by _their_ rules. And under _our_ laws, land is not yours simply because you’re standing on it. You must show that you _own_ it, that you have _bought_ it or that it has been _ceded_ to you.”

“Wiliam Johnson is buying our lands. Why would he buy them from us if they were not ours?”

“Johnson has always recognised that the land is yours or should be, that’s why he is buying it, otherwise he could simply march his militia in and claim it. What he is doing is turning untitled land into titled land within a framework that the Crown will recognise.”

“Is that what William Johnson claims?”

“That is exactly what William Johnson claims. William Johnson is right in this. Until you have a deed that shows that the land is yours, it can be taken from you, you have no title to it. The Crown will not expropriate William Johnson, or me, or any other of its subjects.”

Connor glowers at me quietly but I can almost see the points I’ve made ticking over in his mind.

“You are not special. All of this started in the fifties because colonists moved against French and then the French fought back. The French and the British do not respect each others rights much more than they respect yours, Connor.”

“We were doing fine before you came.”

“Were you? The Mohawk and the Algonquian peoples have probably been at each other’s throats as long as the French and British have.”

I sigh.

His points are valid, if far too idealistic, and I can see all the fallacies on which his beliefs rest.

“A small group of people in a close-knit community can be self-governing. But in relations between people at large, you cannot rely on good will or trust in voluntary compliance. That is why we need the rule of law.”

“But you make laws that are unfair! You come here and help yourselves to what is _not_ yours!”

“I am not the King, Connor, I’m not even a member of Parliament. I neither thought up these laws or voted them. What I _do_ do is work _ceaselessly_ to push for their improvement because even _I_ accept that they are not perfect. But such change is slow. It is slow even for British subjects, never mind everybody else, and by the time the laws are changed enough to make any difference to where you pitch your log cabins, your people will have been homeless and landless for centuries. There is no point discussing how things _should_ be and hoping it will somehow affect the present. You do the best in the current circumstances and _then_ fight for better.”

His glare slowly melts into a look of quiet suspicion.

“Do you speak to Shay like this?”

 _My God, he’s_ obsessed _!_

“If I have to. But he doesn’t deny the evidence of his eyes and intelligence the way you do.”

Another scowl but only half-hearted this time as he goes back to his food. He only uses his fork and holds it the way Shay did before he was taught better. He accepts the chocolate mousse resentfully - his invincible sweet tooth winning out against his disapproval of luxurious dining.

“How does Shay know the Oneida?”

I tell him of Shay’s heroic conduct in saving Monro from the native raids after being forced to capitulate at Fort William-Henry and how he helped rid the Oneida of their French-allied attackers, sent to prevent them from helping Monro.

“They gifted him a very handsome leather armour set. I’m sure he’d show it to you if you asked.”

Connor chews on his dessert spoon thoughtfully.

“Can we do that thing now?”

 _Ah._ That _thing._

Should we? Do I trust Connor’s teeth near my sensitive parts when the air is still warm from the heat of his anger and indignation?

“Very well. My study, curtains and doors. I just need a word with Cook regarding dinner.”

By the time I arrive, my study is shrouded in darkness but there’s enough light coming in around the drapes that I can easily find my way around even without my special vision and I loosen my breeches before settling on the couch, leaning my arms along the back of it.

“Do you remember what I taught you?”

“Most of it, I think.”

“Just let me know if you want any pointers.”

A scorching glare in the half-light.

I probably shouldn’t goad him like this.

All the laughter leaves me in a bitten-back sigh when I feel his hands reach into my breeches and I feel warm, rough, calloused fingers on me. _My_ _son_ ’s fingers.

_Can we really do this? Should we?_

But Connor has never looked at me - any part of me - this way before.

And frankly, the sight of him on his knees before me, quiet and cooperative, is not something I would ever tire of.

I’m trying not to show it but feeling Connor’s hesitant touch, heightened by the roughened skin at the creases of his fingers and their tips, is already making my breath catch. Shay’s hands were like this too, when we first met, but he always wears gloves now and they’ve never become quite this gnarly since. And Shay’s hands, all of him, is cool to the touch, whereas Connor is warm, so warm.

“Well, boy? I do have work to get back to.”

“Quiet, old man, or I might make a mistake.”

Well, he might, but he is trying his best to get it right, rendering from memory everything I taught him, every slow tug, every slide of his thumb pad, every variation in rhythm, and as my breathing changes, I see him look up at me, watching my reactions closely the way he did Shay’s that first night.

“Like that?”

Yes, like that, you snotty brat, and no surprise since it’s just as I showed you.

“Not bad.”

But he’s not fooled for a second and when he leans in and his tongue comes out to touch me, he’s looking me straight in the eyes, barely hiding a smirk.

_Insufferable conceit._

Where does he get it from? Ziio was never like this.

The hard tip of his tongue running the length of me, from the base to just under the crown, lightly, lightly, then again, while he watches me, then lazy circles along the side before he pulls away.

“How am I doing so far?”

“Fine. If a little slow. Shay doesn’t have my attention span, he may fall asleep.”

Connor’s hand tightens on my knee just a moment but he resists the urge to do any real damage.

Soon the rasp of the flat of his tongue along the bottom of my shaft and then its crown and the hot puff of his breath before the wet warmth of his mouth, hotter even then the blood pulsing through the veins in my swelling organ, along the side, the underside, his lips moving over the crown while his tongue swipes along it. He sucks the tip, pushing and swirling his tongue there, just as I showed him, before pulling away and looking up at me, falsely innocent. Even less guile than Shay has.

“What next, father? I forgot.”

“More mouth but less talking.”

One last knowing leer and he’s working me into his mouth.

“Careful with your teeth, Connor! There, hollow out your cheeks when you suck. There now, slowly - on the out-stroke. Good.”

As he falls into a steadier rhythm, my body relaxes into the familiar pleasure, though his unwavering gaze keeps a thread of tension in me, but when he tries to take me deeper he retches and splutters.

“Easy, Connor, there was no need for that. You’re trying to achieve too much.”

He scowls at me, surly and prickly.

“Come here, open your mouth.”

“What are you-?”

“Just do as I say, boy.”

He opens his mouth and I place two of my fingers on his tongue, waiting a moment before moving them further back a little, feeling his body contract.

“Easy, easy. There.”

I wait until he’s still and breathing steadily through his nose.

“Good. We’ll have to practice this, don’t try to push yourself. Now, come and finish what you started.”

He looks at me strangely, almost meekly, before dipping his head down to take me into his mouth again, sucking hard and taking me as far as he can, as though to make up for his unexpected shortcoming.

My pleasure must be more obvious than I’d like because though I hold back I eventually find release in his mouth and soon he’s smiling up at me, smug as a cat with a mouthful of cream.

“How was it?”

“Not quite up to Shay’s level yet but no doubt you’ll get there, with practice. Now, run along, I have work to do.”

He stands, half snarling and half smirking, but takes another book from the pile I selected for him before leaving my study.

Well, that should all give him something to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments! <3 This is a bit of a weird one so thank you for taking a chance on it :)


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